Sad Eyes
by Comfy Chair
Summary: "You're not disposable, Callie." Stef had earnestly put to the young girl. "You're not worthless." Callie retained her composure despite feeling emotionally overwhelmed by the kindness. She didn't think people thought like Stef, let alone gave voice to such thoughts to strangers. However, as far as Callie was concerned, she was disposable. Jude was all that mattered.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi. I hope very much you enjoy this first part of my story. This fanfic carries on straight after the rescue of Jude in episode one. It will then contain elements of and expand upon episode two before I go off on a complete tangent. I have deliberately avoided elements of episodes 3 and 4 as their developments do not smoothly fit in with my plot and Tom is a made-up character of mine. However, I confess I am happy so far with how Brandon and Talya's relationship has turned out and am insanely curious about Liam. I think the latter will be fuel for many fics to come.**

**The Fosters has turned out to be immensely engrossing and a wonderful replacement for the much-missed Bunheads, which I still hope will return, although not at the expense of The Fosters...and vice verse. There's plenty of room for both shows (and The Lying Game and Twisted and Switched at Birth...). If you're a fan of Maia Mitchell, I recommend you seek out copies of an Australian young adult series from 2008 called Trapped. I think the first three episodes are available on YouTube. This was followed by its sequel, titled Castaways.**

**Reviews, comments and criticism would be very much appreciated...**

Sad Eyes

Chapter One

"You're not disposable, Callie," Stef had earnestly put to the young girl as she stood facing her, having just been begged to look after her brother over her own well being. Callie had retained her composure, or at least thought ...hoped she had, although she had felt emotionally overwhelmed by the kindness shown towards her, and sick with relief that Jude would be safe that night. "You're...you're not worthless," the elder woman then said, shattering any inward composure she had. However, she had remained outwardly in control...she hoped. Then Stef's kind follow-up smile nearly felled her on the spot.

Callie did not think people thought like Stef, let alone gave voice to such thoughts to strangers...or even to people they loved. Had she ever emoted so much in so few words to her own brother? Brandon's kind words in the car before they left the scene added weight to his mother's. Callie wanted to giggle manically as though doing so would prevent the emotional overload she was experiencing. Brandon's presence that evening had been wonderful; she could not have rescued Jude without him, even with the added arrival of Stef and Mike. She would love to reward him somehow but, she had nothing to give. How did you reward a white knight without sounding like a pointless Facebook update or a trite Twitter utterance? She had nothing to give him beyond that which she knew was not allowed and would only make matters more...confusing.

Despite the blissful kindness she had received, as far as Callie Jacob was concerned she **was** disposable. Jude was all that mattered. Anything could happen to her; be done to her. She did not care, as long as Jude was safe...and happy. Achieving those two things was her life's ambition; its sole meaning. If it came down to it, she would settle for him being just safe if happiness was not achievable at the same time; the combo was not always possible; the alignment of the two was not always perfect. She had on a few past occasions attempted to secure her own happiness but, had either been let down or betrayed or both at the same time and, at one time, the fall out had jeopardised Jude's well-being. No, it was Jude's safety that counted, and his happiness if achievable. And yet she had failed miserably on both counts. A long-planned and yearned-for dream had been shattered by one act of anger two weeks earlier and, during the last few weeks, Jude had never been more at risk; six years of painstaking endeavour had come so close to tragedy.

Callie retained her composure. Her brother would be safe tonight. But the thought of what had nearly happened rammed its way through her defences. The horror of what could have happened during her long absence then shattered her inside. She felt her skin go cold. The icy sensation lowered itself down her body from head to toe like a veil being removed. Her body shook. She suddenly felt the pain of the beating she had received whilst trying to defend Jude. She felt the bruises and worse of each beating she had received in juvie. It was as though the tension of the last three weeks had held her rigid during that time, offering an absurd protection from physical discomfort, which was now freed to enact its full effect. However, it was the horror of what might have happened that dominated. The pain was almost a blessed distraction; a masochistic form of self-punishment.

"Could you please pull the car over," Callie yelled catching the others by surprise. "Please...now."

Stef parked along the side of the road. Callie opened the car door and leapt out. She near-crawled to the strip of grass that lined the other side of the path, knelt and leant forward, supporting herself with her hands and threw up into the bushes. Whilst she still remained kneeling she wrapped her arms around her body frame and continued to shake uncontrollably whilst breathing deeply; each inward breath eliciting a spasm of pain. It was several seconds before she realised her brother was kneeling by her side. He placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn to face him. They looked at each other but said nothing. Eventually Callie leant her head into Jude's shoulder and he wrapped his arms round her. Callie's body stopped its shaking as her brother's body heat raised the veil; she knew Jude was safe tonight. Jude coached his sister to stand up and walk back to the car. Tonight he felt happy.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Callie and Jude were finally alone; the others having retired to their rooms. The kindness, if not actual universal warm welcome, had been unique to what the siblings had experienced in previous homes. Even those wonderful homes where the parents fostered as a vocation rather than just for the monthly pay-check had not been as warm as what they had just experienced. Callie could almost resent the emotions they had elicited. How dare they be so wonderful when they knew they were only going to shelter them for a brief time? It was sadistic, but gloriously so. They represented everything she and Jude had being seeking the last six years, with bells on. The irony of wanting to be alone with her brother right now was not lost on her.

Jude edged closer to Callie. He could sense a quiet desperation in his sister. He could read her emotions like a book: her body language, her posture, her need for touch. Sometimes she needed privacy – although even then she always had to know where he was and that had to be nearby. Her eyes, however, were always sad - even when she was experiencing a degree of happiness. At this particular time he sensed she needed to talk yet tempered by a strong desire not to have to. He bridged the space between them and leant his body next to hers. She reciprocated by putting her arm round him.

"Do you like it here?" The elder Jacob probed.

"It's very...woody," Jude replied. In truth, he liked it very much. Unlike his sister, he was very prone to being impressed early and he was very impressed.

"The Fosters are very nice," Callie offered.

"Yes."

"Could you see yourself to living here?"

"I'll probably dream it tonight." Jude leant out of Callie's embrace and faced her. "It's not going to happen though. There are too few rooms and not a little resentment from the twins. They would never take us on permanently."

Callie jumped into the gap Jude's last statement provided. "They might take just **you,**" she ventured. "You're only small after all," she offered as humour but which was not taken up.

"No, Callie!" Jude instantly reacted. "Don't even think about it." He was two parts angry at her even contemplating – and voicing! - such a thought to one part desperate at the possibility of it happening. "Besides, we can now go ahead with our plans."

"Oh, Jude, that's not going to happen now...I messed up.

"We can still try."

"No judge is going to grant my request. Not now I have a criminal record."

Their plan had been for Callie to apply for emancipation and then for custody of Jude. Both were now non-starters. She had realised that as soon as the police had turned up to take her away that awful night nearly three weeks ago. Since that night she had kept herself awake nights trying to think of alternative solutions. Nothing had been forthcoming – not helped by the constantly-invading fear of what Jude was going through in her absence.

Callie saw her brother accept the reality quickly; no sulking or voicing of wishful thoughts. He seldom required comforting. She sometimes felt robbed. She would have loved to be able to reassure him; to say everything would be alright; there was no boogeyman – supernatural at any rate. At least, she consoled herself, she never had to lie to him.

"Have you spoken to Tom?" Was his response.

"I haven't had a chance to. I've left three messages...from three different phones, for him to contact me here," she ended.

Jude did not ask if Tom had tried to contact **her **whilst she was incarcerated as she would have told him if he had. "Promise me you won't suggest or agree to us being split up," he almost demanded, returning to the earlier topic.

"Promise? We've seldom required each other to promise before."

"I know but, Callie, I also know you would do anything for me...have done in the past. You would sacrifice your own happiness to ensure I was OK." His sister went to placate him. "I know more than you think I do...stuff that you have tried to conceal." Callie looked scared and horrified, mixed with shame. He felt ashamed. He had resolutely vowed never to reveal to her what he knew – if she wanted to keep stuff from him he was not going to destroy the comfort she gained from thinking she had succeeded. But he needed the promise. "I will trash the place if they only take me on. I will make myself so unwelcome they will throw me back to Bill in a heartbeat. I did it once before, remember?"

Callie hated recalling that period in their lives. She had been heartbroken – almost catatonic with grief – when he had been placed in a home separate from her, yet rejoiced at the fact he had been settled. Worst of all was the sweet memory of feeling intoxicated with joy when he had been discarded from the foster home to be reunited with her. The shame at such a feeling was crippling since it meant Jude had to endure several months in the children's home before another placement became available – the one for which he just been rescued from.

"I promise," she relented and felt sick at the relief it bathed her in. She truly did not want to be separated from her brother and she never broke her promises to him. Jude appeared immediately satisfied. He trusted her vow completely. "It's very late," Callie said finally. "Lie down and I'll turn off the lights."

As she lay down herself, Callie decided to cling onto a vestige of hope that Tom would contact her; that he would come to her. Tom was...OK. She never tried to convince herself that she loved him; that she had any desire for him. Surely, she thought, physical attraction did have to be backed up by love or desire if it provided a blessed release from reality. He was just...OK. He listened to her, laughed with her – made her laugh. More importantly, Jude liked him. They both chatted endlessly about boy stuff; things a teenage girl did not know of, or could not contemplate discussing. When he messed around with Jude it provided Callie with precious moments of solitude, where she did not have to worry about where her brother was – she knew he was safe with Tom.

Perhaps Tom would stop Brandon from staring at her. It freaked her out when he did that...and made her smile; it made her feel like an object...and a person; it unearthed buried-for-a-reason bad memories...and conjured fresh wonderful dreams. She needed Tom to make her see sense that anything with Brandon would only end badly.

_Please don't make Brandon fall in love with me_ she entreated. _Nor me fall in love with him_. Both were personal thoughts to herself, not prayers. She would dearly love to have the comfort and reassurance of a faith to hold her steady but could not conjure up any enthusiasm to try for one. She knew also that, if she did believe, she would likely never give any deity the time of day; to her a blessed afterlife was no consolation for a crappy prequel.

Having finally found a posture which reduced her physical discomfort to a dull ache, Callie fell asleep. She dreamt of a light at the end of a tunnel that kept on getting longer; of Jude being trapped in Hell, with her banging on a glass wall outside. _I am so sorry, Jude. It was all my fault_ she screamed through the soundproof barrier. She dreamt of a way to ensure that Jude was safe in a foster home with two loving mothers and three foster siblings – a way that did not require her to break her promise.

She sat bolt up right, the memory of the last dream clear in her head. She was scared - not so much at the prospect of carrying out the terms of the dream – the scary endgame but, rather at the euphoria she felt. As if on cue, her body screamed in protest at being disturbed without warning. She wrapped her arms tightly round herself to stem the throbbing of her ribs and the other aches she had been enduring for some time now.

Fortunately she was eventually able to fall asleep again. This time she dreamt of a teenage boy...who was not Tom.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"I am sorry, you know," Lena offered into the semi-darkness.

"For what?" Stef asked. She already knew the answer but, knew her partner needed to voice her concerns.

"For Brandon ending up in danger as a direct result of me accepting Callie into our home."

"We couldn't have foreseen what would happen and it was his own actions which put Brandon in danger. Much as I am sick with thinking what could have happened had we not turned up, I can't help feeling proud of him."

"Me too," Lena happily agreed and was relieved to have her own thoughts mirrored. "I also can't help thinking how lucky it was that we took in Callie. It breaks my heart when I remember how desperate and sad they both looked when we arrived."

"Did you notice how sad Callie's eyes look?" Stef asked.

"Are you kidding? They felled me the very first time we were introduced."

"They don't even alter when she is obviously relieved or has cause to smile."

Thoughts of Brandon standing in front of a loaded gun and the sad eyes of a young girl they had only met a couple of days before, yet was now sleeping in their living room, kept the two Mom's awake most of the night, even though they had stopped talking hours earlier.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Sad Eyes

Chapter two

It was lunch time on day two, at school number eight, home number seven. Callie was feeling uneasy, disconnected from what was going on behind her as she stared lovingly...longingly at the sea; waves gently advancing up the beach and rolling down again in the same way they had done for aeons. Pleasant memories of days spent with her brother and mother ghost-danced on the sand in front of her.

Day two at school number eight; home number seven. Her life was a series of numbers. She felt foster kids should be given special tags like abstinent alcoholics; one for each home. Except, of course, each tag would be a negative rather than a positive; more homes meant something must be wrong, surely – the child must be trouble or that wonderful catch-all phrase, 'difficult'. Why did everyone expect foster children to hit the ground and run as soon as they arrived at their next 'assigned' home? Adults usually required some bedding in time, probation, shadowing before they were settled in a new job, so why not foster kids?

Seven homes in six years was not too bad. Foster homes by their nature were temporary unlike being adopted, which demanded a lower strike rate. But, like the universe was 99% dark matter with the occasional star, the life of a foster child was predominantly spent in government-sponsored children's homes with the occasional 'posting' elsewhere.

She was sitting on a low wall that separated the pathway from the beach when Brandon scared the crap out of her by tapping her on the shoulder, disturbing the chip she had been carefully cultivating. She was relieved to be released from her self torture of guilt and fear and resentment. But why did it have to be Brandon? He already knew too much about her and was starting to look at her in 'that way'. She chided herself. Perhaps he would be different from all the other 'brothers'. He was, after all, brother number nine from foster home number seven; the law of averages must kick in eventually.

She raised her legs and swivelled round to sit on the other side of the wall to face her tormentor. She smiled inwardly; to be tortured by someone so attractive was shockingly appealing. As if in penance for such stupid thoughts, her injuries reminded her that they had not yet healed. She flinched, but successfully suppressed the need, the overwhelming desire, to scream.

"Hi," Brandon opened imaginatively, then with heart-warming concern, "are you OK?" Callie nodded with a thin smile. "I'm sorry I startled you. Perhaps I should wear a bell, what d'you think?" Callie lowered her head slightly and looked up at him, an expression of 'okayyyy' written on her face. "I'm thinking a small cat collar bell rather than a cow bell...cos that would be silly." Callie suppressed a genuine smile. "I suppose you are going to say something at some point," he almost pleaded for rescue from the hole he was still digging. "Or are you trying for cool and enigmatic?"

"One of us needs to," she arrived at last, "since you just failed the audition so superbly." This time she released a smile; one so wide she could have sworn Brandon stepped back a pace when the shock wave hit him. She must try that again... but not on Brandon.

"I knew it," Number Nine uttered. He looked as though he wanted to punch the air in triumph. The girl in front of him was a picture of confusion. "I knew you could smile. I'll try for a laugh next."

Callie's internal mood shifted dangerously. She concealed the change which meant Brandon was walking on quicksand unawares. She wanted to slap him** _give me something to laugh about_ **she thought **_then I'll join the party and get drunk and debauched with the rest of the sanctimonious princesses!_** Yet, at the same time, she wanted to hug him; the boy was flirting with her. A genuine attempt to win her affections but with an expectation that he might fail. This was not a 'brother' who expected success just because 'not being blood-related meant it was OK.' Callie knew she should speak harshly to discourage him; shun him cruelly; make him feel guilty at cheating on Talya. She vowed to do all three, if it became necessary. _**please don't make us fall in love**._ However, she could not find the strength to do so at the moment. The wonderful boy was flirting with her and she basked in the starlight and ...did not slap him.

"So, did Stef and Lena ask you to keep an eye on me, in case I run away again?"

"Hey, I seem to recall I ran away with you the last time."

"Strictly speaking you accompanied me."

"Semantics."

She smiled and swung her legs round the wall again to face the sea. The events of the night before flashed through her mind; subliminal flickering: Jude, so tiny in the kitchen on his own without her standing beside him; his terror at the raised voices; her own abject terror when the gun was produced; the disbelief when the cavalry arrived; Stef's...the sweet goddess, Stef' kind words and Brandon's quiet insistence that his presence that night to rescue Jude was as natural as her own. She was drowning despite being nearly 50 yards from the sea's edge.

"Why are you sitting here?" Brandon asked oblivious as he climbed up and sat alongside her – not close enough that their bodies touched but near enough for static to raise the hairs on her skin. She stared determinedly ahead unblinking.

"Seriously?" She uttered in response still staring ahead. "Who wouldn't want to sit here all day?" She was serious. She could quite happily do so until she wasted away and her essence merged with the grains of sand. "I mean, do afternoon lessons ever start on time after lunch break, what with the sand and sea being so close? Having a school built on a beach is absurd."

Brandon followed her direction of sight. He shrugged. "We tend not to notice it. It's always here and will be here tomorrow, and the next day. It's permanent. Just scenery."

Callie felt strangely sorry for him; for anyone who could not see what she did. Even if he could not actually see the glorious ghosts of her past life dancing on the sand, she wanted him to understand what he had. A permanence was to be rejoiced at when it was so beautiful.

"Have you never seen the sea before?" He enquired unexpectedly. "Up front that is, or stood on a beach?"

She looked at him witheringly, but then conceded that it was a fair question. "I haven't been by the sea since mom died. Six years. We could never afford holidays but we would take the bus to the nearest beach practically every weekend. We'd make sand castles and dig pits, taking turns to bury each other up to the neck. We'd stay all day until it got dark. Mom would then pull us up off the sand and we'd all dance in the light of the stars. Sometimes I would play the guitar whilst Jude danced with her. Some nights we would even sleep on the beach and catch the first bus back the next morning. We were like hippies at a coastal Woodstock."

Brandon reached an arm round her waist and held her close. Her bruises protested. Her skin felt goose bumped. **_Stupid, stupid stupid_ **she admonished herself. She edged away from his embrace; slowly so as not offend – perhaps he did not notice; slowly to retain his body heat for precious seconds more. There was no discernible reaction and they both continued to stare forward until the bell sounded signifying the end of the lunch break.

The two school pupils swung their legs over the wall to sit facing the school. Brandon leapt off and held out a hand for Callie to take. She took it and he hoisted her off the wall. Thankfully he then turned from her and started to walk to the lunch table area separating the pathway from the school entrance.

"I am grateful," Callie found herself saying suddenly to his retreating back. Brandon stopped, then turned to her, an enquiring expression on his face. He was so beautiful. _**Stupid, stupid stupid** _"For last night," she recovered. "I'm grateful for you being there last night." She bridged the gap between them and realised how much taller he was. "If I could express my thanks...if it was safe to...if it was allowed, I would willingly." She raised a hand to his face.

Brandon stepped back as if her touch stung. He looked horrified – disgusted? "I would never expect you to...I didn't do it to get you in bed!" He was really upset, which she should have felt comforted by – it was certainly a first experience for her. "My mom asked me to look out for you," he added, then turned away and resumed his walk back to the school building.

Whilst she had truly not intended to offend him or shock – disgust _**please no, not that** _it was perhaps for the best. It would otherwise only end badly. It was not allowed. She afforded one precious glance back at the beach, at the ghosts of three people dancing by the sea's edge.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Callie lifted herself out of the bath. The effort made her ribs protest against the gravity pull of the water and her stomach burned inside. The...discomfort had been getting worse; the instances longer. Bathing eased the aching bones except when it became time to get out. Showering was not a possible alternative because it meant standing up, which she could not do for long periods without getting nauseous with the pain. Aspirin helped and eventually it all subsided and hid to jump out at her again when she was least expecting it. She always expected it to come now, but it always caught her unawares.

Dried and dressed and free from discomfort for now, she was able to torture herself mentally again over the events of that afternoon. Had she really offered to have sex with Brandon? She realised what she had actually said was 'she would if she was allowed', which meant she must have appeared wanton and a tease! Callie did not consider she was the former. She did not think you needed to be in love to have sex. Relationships were seldom like they were on prime-time shows, which was why she avoided watching TV and romantic comedies; to void being slapped in the face by what she was missing. And she would dearly love to show how overwhelmingly grateful she was to Brandon for his help the previous night. Sex seemed the natural way to show this – she wanted to and she felt sure he did too, so what was the problem? She was not oblivious, however, to society's norms. Callie knew she was in a club of one on this subject and that Brandon was offended and appalled. Relief that she had avoided any chance of a relationship blossoming, thus securing her and Jude's presence in the house was palpable, but the deep longing gripped her all the same.

Callie closed the bathroom door behind her, turned and nearly jumped out of her skin when she found herself facing Brandon in the hallway. A cow bell would be perfect, she thought. Had he been standing in the hallway all the time?

"Hi," he opened. She offered a small smile and edged past him to go downstairs. "Callie." She turned round. "...could we talk...in my room?" Callie stepped back a pace, failing to betray fear. That was OK, as long as the faint feeling of hope was not also visible - faint as an explosion in a fireworks factory. "Just talk," he added quickly, as though it was necessary to make it clear. Callie felt immediately relieved, but also paranoid - had he seen the catherine wheel light the back of her eyes?

He led her into his room and stood in the centre until she was inside proper. He looked uncomfortable, which she felt he deserved since she wanted to burrow into the floorboards right now. "I...I wanted to apologise for my behaviour this afternoon," was his totally unexpected opener. She must have looked confused because he added "I over reacted."

"I seem to recall I said, if circumstances were different, I would let you have sex with me as a reward for being nice." She felt ashamed suddenly. Saying it out loud obliterated all the justification she had built up in the bath. "I think your reaction was actually quite reserved." She watched desperately for Brandon's response.

"You didn't say it like that and I know you didn't mean it in that way."

It was if he was scolding her for treating herself so badly; for having a poor opinion of herself. She wanted to hug him – just hug him; hug this 16-year old boy in his bedroom _**stupid, stupid stupid**._ Yet she knew they had stepped closer to the precipice again. It took her seconds to realise he was brandishing a guitar at her, which meant hugging him would have been difficult. She nearly giggled.

"You mentioned you used to play guitar on the beach with your mother," he resumed. He looked so lovably awkward; so young. "I though perhaps you would like to play this." He held out the instrument.

Callie looked up at him. She wanted to say something, but could find no suitable words, nothing that would sufficiently show her feelings. She was devastated – her cold composure ruined. At that moment he was so obviously Stef's son. She took the guitar from Brandon and turned it over in her arms. "It's...beautiful."

"Did you want to sit down and practice?"

She really wanted to sit down, certainly, but was unsure about a music session.

"Most of our beach nights were up-tempo, a bit enthusiastic. I don't think I have the energy to play them." She gestured to her ribs.

"What about something slower?" Brandon suggested. Callie showed suitable curiosity. "I was thinking the Deer Hunter theme." Callie did not know it. "Cavatina?" She did know that and felt a sudden ice-stab of fear. "It was originally written for the piano, but John Williams asked for it to be extended and applied to the guitar," Brandon continued oblivious. "Which means we can both play it. If you are a bit rusty I could play a recording of it in the background to accompany to. It's one with lyrics added."

"No," Callie butted in quickly and felt awkward straight-away. Did he know the lyrics? If he did, had he selected the song on purpose? She felt herself slipping off the precipice. She hung from the edge by her fingertips. She wanted to be somewhere else right now yet, at the same time, no where else but in the same room. "That's OK...I think I can manage without it, although I am definitely lacking in practice, so don't expect too much," she was able to squeeze out in between happy/terrified thoughts.

Brandon sat at his piano and played the opening chords of the instrumental version and Callie joined in. She found it surprisingly easy despite it being a challenging piece. She was infinitely relieved that she needed to look down at her hands as they played across the strings, rather than being able to look up at Brandon. She fervently hoped he was as concentrated on his own playing to not be watching her.

Despite the all-encompassing feeling of falling, Callie felt consumed with happiness. Right now the room was a bastion against the outside world beyond the door. They were enshrined in amber in one pure sacred moment. If Brandon knew what the lyrics were – had consciously picked them even, she was lost. She was condemned. Such things always ended badly. Yet right now she did not care. She should speak to him harshly, to discourage him. She should shun him cruelly; make him feel guilty at cheating on Talya. Tomorrow perhaps.

Of course, she thought, if he had consciously selected the song, he got zero points for subtlety. She giggled and afforded a glance up at her torturer. He looked confused. Serves him right, she added to herself, but the lyrics invaded her feeling of triumph.

She was beautiful

Beautiful to my eyes

From the moment I saw her

The Sun filled the sky.

She was so; so beautiful

Beautiful just to hold

In my dreams she was spring time

Winter was cold.

**_stupid, stupid stupid_**

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Sad Eyes

Chapter three

Brandon's kind words and actions, his thoughtful gestures, were becoming addictive. And now they had a damn soundtrack. Callie had just experienced and endured the most beautiful hour of her life. It had not involved any substance use – Aspirin intake did not count, or physical release – barely any eye contact in fact. The thrill and the hurting was intoxicating. Every time he looked at her it felt like electricity running through her veins. But being with him was akin to playing with a lit candle in a barn; the flame was pretty but would finally end in a blaze - everything destroyed.

Callie felt exhausted. The effort to prepare herself for the next spasm of pain and conceal it; the obsessional desire she had to know that Jude was safe and happy; the effort to fend off Brandon, defy her own desires, delay her own happiness. All weighed down on her, chipped away at the castle wall she had painstakingly built over the years. Brick by brick it was crumbling. The crenellations had been destroyed first. She now no longer had anywhere to hide to avoid the slings and arrows. Next to go had been the portcullis, allowing anyone to invade. All of this was manageable, however; walls could be rebuilt, patched up; barricades could be erected.

Brandon, however, was digging at the foundations and there was nothing she could do about it except watch helplessly from above, and pray she still had enough time to enact the escape plan she had devised. She was only holding out to ensure Jude was safe. He was her king, she his lionheart. When her brother was secure she might be able to let Brandon, her white knight, in. She would tear down the walls herself with bloodied fingers until it all turned to dust. In its place she would build an emerald city and never wear red shoes, thus banishing her black and white life forever. She so wanted to do it now – the castle was a prison she hated. But, not yet. She had to fend off Brandon, defy her own desires, delay her own happiness. She needed Tom to distract her, to hide behind. Where was he?

Callie stood in Mariana's room surveying the corner that would be hers until it came to leave the Foster's house. Stef and Lena had earlier offered to put her and Jude up until something better came along. Was that actually possible, she thought. It would be nice to have a room to retreat to – guys never entered girls' rooms uninvited.

"So, little Miss Cool and Enigmatic," Brandon startled her from the doorway. _**for crying out loud**_she screamed inside. In fairness, if not of any help at all, he had not crossed the threshold. "Do you have any posters planned for your square foot of wall space?" He asked. "Leonard Cohen, Kurt Cobain, maybe?" _**Kurt Cobain?!**_.

"I don't know about them," Callie played along. "They'd kinda clash with Mariana's Bieber and One Direction pictures." She realised she would wake up every morning to Harry Styles looking down on her. Suddenly the couch downstairs with its lack of privacy was looking so much better.

"Let's face it," Brandon said. "Pretty much anything would clash with them. Personally I prefer Selena Gomez and Taylor Swift...and I guess I'm destroying that veneer of sophistication I had built up, huh? You know, you could fill in the gaps between my sentences to prevent me from sounding totally stupid."

"Gaps?" She smiled genuinely - reluctantly. Brandon returned the smile and the soundtrack at the back of her mind resumed. "I...I need to check on Jude before he settles down." She edged past Brandon, who to her relief left her enough space to do so.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It was one o'clock in the morning. Callie sat on one of the stools at the large pine table in the kitchen. Discomfort, feelings of guilt and memories – bad and good, kept her awake into the early hours most nights. Guilt mostly. Guilt at what Jude had endured in her absence twisted her insides. Guilt at the shameful desire she had to renege on her duty, on her promise to her mother, and flee to wherever her feet, or a stolen car, would take her – to dance on a beach beneath the stars with the ghosts of yesterday. Ghosts who knew nothing of what had happened in the years since they had become spirits, who relished nothing but: the joy of movement; the feeling of the sand under foot; the stars as a canopy as they slept; the waves lulling them to sleep.

The days were always slow, the nights always long. She felt them tick, watched them crawl. She was scared of running out of things to do to occupy her mind. She feared her life was defined by her relationship with Jude, that she was disposable without his presence. She had a heartbreaking curiosity as to what her life could have been – things she could have done if she had not to look out for him. And she had an overriding fear that her life would have been no different, meaningless; that she would not have achieved anything; that she would be in the exact same place as she was now regardless. Was she using Jude as an excuse for her failures, her actions?

She now also had Brandon on her mind, drip dripping like water torture. She was in no doubt that she was obsessed. She had to keep him at bay otherwise she was damned and Jude would suffer by association...again. It had happened before. Liam had been the boy's name. At the time he had seemed one of the 'good' foster brothers – like Brandon seemed right now. She had given him ...everything. The first time she had ever opened up completely. The First Time. But when his parents found out, he did not lift a finger to speak up for her. He did not so much as look at her. She was returned to Bill that same day, Jude with her. She would not make the same mistake again.

She was likely being unfair to Brandon. He had not professed anything. He had only given her a guitar and played a tune with beautiful, wildly inappropriate lyrics. It was hardly a proposal. He was probably just looking out for her, continuing his parent-commissioned task of ensuring she was safe and happy. He had Talya and what boy in his right mind would be unfaithful to someone so beautiful.

The cause of her obsession was still unclear to her, beyond the need to avoid anything happening. Was she falling in love with him, despite her entreaties that he did not fall for her first? Or was she so overwhelmingly grateful for his assistance that night that she looked up to him – hero worshipped him? Goodness help her, she thought with a half smile, half shudder. Or did she just want the sex?

She certainly craved some physical release. There had been none for so long. Her veins itched. That was why she needed Tom to contact her. He would fend off Brandon's advances, if they actually existed. She could resume their evenings of laughter and veiled conversation. She could enjoy quiet evenings where he entertained Jude whilst she watched on with the love of a sister rather than a carer. The evenings would then end with the two of them in bed; she relishing the oblivion it brought, he getting whatever he did from such occasions. Poor Tom. But then he was getting what surely every young man wanted; a non-committal relationship. He must be enjoying his adventure with his little foster girl.

At that moment Lena entered the kitchen. Callie marvelled at how all the household could move around without making a sound, constantly scaring the stuffing out of her. "I'm sorry," she offered to mask her recovery. "I didn't wake you did I?"

"Don't worry, I'm a light sleeper," Lena reassured. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I don't sleep much." She noticed Lena's attention shift to the bottle of aspirin on the table in front of her. "I was also aching a bit...I hope you don't mind me helping myself."

"No problem. Did you take the right dosage?

"Yes. Just two."

The elder woman walked over to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Callie wished she could read her mind, yet perhaps that would be a mistake. But she needed to know what she, and Stef, felt about her. What they felt about Jude. Whether they were becoming engrained on their psyche to the extent they would miss them – miss him.

"I overheard you talking to Jude earlier," Lena said catching Callie unawares. She turned round and faced her, her glass held to her chest. "You are very good with him. Your love is obvious through your voice alone."

Callie felt her eyes water causing Lena to become blurred. She blinked heavily to dispel and refocus. "He's my king," she declared. "I'm his lionheart." Lena tilted her head slightly conveying interest and curiosity both. "It's something my mom said when she was in hospital: always look after your brother; treat him like your king; be his lionheart."

"She would be proud of what you have achieved. He appears a happy boy," Lena haunted her guest unawares.

Past mistakes and horrors – actual and near misses, invaded Callie's consciousness and taunted her with pitch forks. "Thank you," she said.

"What about your own happiness, Callie?"

Callie had never been asked that before. She was almost confused at the relevancy of the question; the importance Lena seemed to put into it. "Jude's happiness is all that counts," she declared defiantly, challenging Lena to deny her right to make such a choice.

"Oh, my love," Lena uttered. She pulled up a stool and sat down opposite Callie. She reached out a hand and rested it on the young woman's arm. "Don't ever deny yourself your own right to joy and to be happy."

Callie could almost resent having her emotions manipulated - they were hers to do as she wished. But she was in uncharted territory; alien ground. She was fascinated by the uniqueness of the situation. She kept her arm still. "I have my memories," she proffered as an explanation. Ghosts dancing under starlight. "Memories of before our mother became sick, before we entered the system. So many..." she became wistful. "...so many that I could re-live one each night and not run out for new ones for a year. Jude..." She looked away, to the doorway leading to where he slept – she hoped, elsewhere in the house. "Jude can't remember anything from that time. I don't think he even remembers mom's face." She turned back to face Lena, tears now allowed to fall unchecked. "Can you... can you conceive in your worst imaginings what it must be like to have no happy memories? The last six years have been...awful."

Lena slowly pulled back her hand. Callie mourned the loss of her touch and momentarily thought she had offended her until she saw she was not going to stand and walk out. "I think, when he turns 16," Lena said quietly, "he will look back on the years spent with his sister as being happy; being full of love."

"I don't know about that," Callie dried her eyes and smiled thinly. "You've only just met me. I'm a bit of a mess. And I've made a bigger mess of everything." Lena seemed to indicate she should elaborate. "I was going to apply for emancipation and then for custody of Jude. That won't happen now I have my juvie record."

"I won't lie to you, your chances are very slim. But, Callie." She leant forward again. "I have to say that it was very unlikely you would have got custody even before you were arrested. Perhaps when you are 18, maybe. Emancipation maybe sooner."

Callie nodded her head accepting Lena's words. The reality did not come as a shock, even when said out loud, but she still had other concerns to voice.. "I don't know what I will do when I leave school. There is so much prejudice against foster kids, let alone ex-juvie inmates."

"Don't ever let prejudice beat you," Lena almost admonished her. "Look at me. I have two prejudices working against me – three if you count the glass ceiling. Whole congregations must writhe at what I represent."

"But you're a vice principal..."

"Just because I was a child of the 80's rather than the 50's doesn't mean I haven't experienced obstacles, despite what my own mother thinks. And the kids probably hate me at school, "she added with a smile.

Callie smiled in return. There followed an awkward silence for a few seconds. "So," Callie broke, "The 80s, huh? I'm thinking early Madonna and Gloria Estefan?

"More Duran Duran and Pat Benatar actually...I was conflicted." Callie smiled genuinely. Lena stood up. "Have the tablets taken effect yet?" Callie nodded. "Well I'm going to bed. Be sure to follow me soon after, won't you."

Callie watched Lena walk round the table towards the kitchen door. "You're wrong, you know," she said before she exited. "The kids at school don't hate you – quite the opposite."

Lena smiled like a child praised by a parent. She walked up to Callie and leant forward and kissed her on the cheek. Callie went wide eyed. "I'm going to miss you two when you have to leave," the older woman offered with kindness, unaware she had lifted her pupil to an emotional high then destroyed her hope in the space of seconds.

To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

Sad Eyes

Chapter four

Just like every member of the foster household, Callie's alarm clock crept up on her. It had been stalking her for the last half an hour. It tapped her on the shoulder and screamed into her ear for a third time, having not got the message that she was not interested, despite two presses of the snooze button.

She opened her eyes. She was late. She had dreamt all night, or what few hours she had been asleep. She could not recall most of the dreams, beyond which was dark and which twilight. However, she could recall in detail the last one; the one between the snooze buttons. She had stood outside her emerald city dressed in a long red gown. Brandon had been alongside her, astride a jet black horse and attired in white burnished armour and brandishing a long spear. She giggled. In the dream he had appeared magnificent; her white knight all in white. In reality he looked ridiculous, absurd. Dreams were mean like that.

"What can I do for you, my queen," he had asked. She could get used to that.

"I wish you to stop me from crying," she had unrealistically replied. How was he going to do that? She suddenly remembered and blushed profusely. "I require you to be stronger than the monsters beneath my bed," she added.

"Consider it my sole aim, my queen." _**-**__**absurd- **_

"I desire you to be smarter than those who play tricks on my heart." _**-**__**? -**_

"They shall never bother you again."

"I want you to chase the ghosts from my head."

"Consider it done!" At which point he spurred his horse, lowered his spear and charged at a windmill that had just appeared on the horizon. _**-**__**really mean- **_

It was too late to shower and the hot water was probably all used up anyway. As such Callie sorted out the mess that was her bed-hair and cleaned her face and teeth, then headed down to the kitchen. She had to squeeze past Don Quixote in the doorway. He said 'Hi' as he headed for the front door.

Turning round from instinctively watching him leave she found herself stunned. With one foot dancing, one foot nailed to the floor, she watched a scene of domestic bliss – glorious chaos. The two moms weaved round each other placing a variety of different breakfasts in front of the three remaining children, whilst snatching bites of their own and exchanging private smiles. The twins teased and taunted each other.

In all of the splendour, and as though he belonged there, sat Jude. Stef placed some toast in front of him and planted a kiss to the top of his head – beautiful Stef, with the voice to calm a storm and the grace of saints. Jesus passed him the butter; Mariana sidled the jam and winked at him...! He said thank you and smiled in turn. He looked round, raised his hand and found a glass of orange juice placed in it by Lena. Callie was mesmerised, afraid, wonderfully happy, infinitely sad. She wanted to back away, to escape from the sublime torture, but was frightened her movement would ripple off her and disturb the tableau. She did not even blink. She could walk away right now, leaving him in good hands – they surely would not let him go now. It would break her heart beyond repair to do so – it would kill her, but she would do it. Jude then looked up, breaking the spell. _**-**__**please don't read my mind- **_The siblings locked eyes. He knew. He stood up causing the others to turn towards her, upon which she was pulled into the dream on an invisible cord.

"You're a bit late for me to make anything for breakfast," Stef smiled. "But take some fruit for the walk to school and make sure you have a bigger lunch. I'm sure Jude won't mind sharing some of his toast." She was suddenly barely a foot from her. "Are you OK?" She asked with a concerned look. Callie found her tone strangely familiar, but could not place it. Stef seemed to be looking into her. Callie hoped she did not look too deep, for fear she would reveal too much or rock her like thunder back two steps.

All good things have to end and eventually everyone stood and grabbed their respective bags and satchels. Lena had left first. Stef kissed everyone goodbye, allotting tailor-made warnings to each of her charges, including Jude and Callie. The twins then left together, still bickering. In all the time she had been there amongst them that morning, Callie realised she had not uttered a word to anyone. Jude put his hand in hers and they both started their own way to school.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It had been a strange lunch break. An obvious act. A stage play in which she was a guest dragged from the audience to be entertained and entertain. Talya had invited her over quite unexpectedly. All smiles and sincerity. Pleasantries had been exchanged – I like your bracelets, nice scarf, in between not-so-subtle comments and observations. In fairness Talya's friends had appeared very nice, albeit treating her as a rare and exotic guest with tales to tell of Juvie and foster-care. They had also said nice things about Jude.

Talya had also been polite. Callie felt sorry for her – she was obviously concerned about her own relationship with Brandon and how much of a threat this mysterious new girl was. She had made a big point of how Stef provided them both with condoms. Callie wondered if they were actually having sex. Being supplied condoms by your mother did not necessarily mean it was happening, and mentioning the fact at the school lunch table could be just for her friends' benefit. For all she knew Brandon and Talya could have made the pledge.

Talya's friends had left together and were nearly at the school door before Brandon's girlfriend and house-guest had stood up from the table. Talya smiled awkwardly and turned to leave. They were the only two pupils left in the yard.

"Talya," Callie called to her. The older girl turned round. "Thank you for inviting me to your table, the ulterior motive notwithstanding, I...I was kinda lost out there in the crowd."

Talya put on a mock sign of confusion, but was big enough to look sheepish when Callie regarded her knowingly.

Callie adjusted her standing position as she felt a slight twinge in her stomach. "You know, I won't be here forever, right?" She offered. "Jude and I don't tend to linger more than few months in one place. Lena and Stef are our seventh set of parents." Talya looked uneasy at Callie's direct approach and probably knew where the conversation was leading. "I don't steal other people's boyfriends." Talya so visibly relaxed that Callie wanted to hug her for emphasis. "Anyway, I already have a boyfriend... I think." She hoped. "Somewhere."

"Is...is he in juvie?" Talya asked – innocently, which somehow made the question worse.

"No!" Callie was angry and found the question quite bizarre. "Do you even know why **I** was in juvie?"

"You smashed your foster father's car with a baseball bat." Callie was shocked, causing her to step back a pace. Her stomach started to hurt. She was not expecting an answer to her question. It must have shown. "I asked Jude this morning." Talya said.

Callie's mood changed. "So, you're telling me you asked a 12-year old boy to relive a personal trauma. That explains why he was so quiet before lunch."

Talya looked suitably contrite. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't think."

Callie dragged a hand across her face; massaged her eyes, then refocused on the girl in front of her. "A word of advice; always think ahead two paces before you act. Such as, will your action affect anyone and is there an older sister waiting in the wings to beat the crap out of you." Talya visibly flinched and edged backwards two steps, a fearful look in her eyes. Callie was surprised. "Wow, if I knew I could have that effect, I would have tried it at juvie. Perhaps I wouldn't have had the crap beaten out of **me** every day." The gap between them increased by two more steps. "Oh, don't worry, right now I couldn't break my way out of a paper bag." She really could not. She sat down, the pain in her stomach and chest now unbearable.

"Are you OK?" Talya asked genuinely. "You look like crap."

Callie was finding it hard to breath. "You don't by any chance have any painkillers on you, do you?" Talya reached into her bag and produced a small bottle. She sat down opposite her nemesis and handed two pills over the table. Callie popped them into her mouth and took a gulp of water from a proffered bottle. She cradled her head in her hands. After some seconds she looked up. "You're still here," she addressed to Talya, confused rather than unkindly.

"As if I'm going to leave you like this...oh my God, Callie what's wrong!?" She stood up, leaning forward across the table as Callie wrapped her arms round her body and started to shake, her face deathly pale. She stood and walked round to her. She knelt in front of Callie and held her arms. "What happened to you?"

Callie focused her eyes through fresh tears at the girl disturbingly close to her. "When exactly? You may need to be more specific."

Talya placed a hand almost affectionately on Callie's left side causing her to flinch. She lifted her t-shirt and gasped when she saw the bruise. "But, you're grasping your stomach, not your side."

"People don't tend to discriminate when they hit," she felt it unnecessary to explain, although she did not think her problems related just to where she had been hit. She spasmed with pain again and cried like a newborn. Talya hugged her close, never letting go until the tablets took effect and the pain subsided to a dull ache.

Callie was a mix of emotions. Everyone was being so nice to her. She was running out of candidates to hate. It disturbed her no end that such a concept disturbed her.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Mariana noticed both her parents were home – the two cars in the driveway was a rare occurrence so early in the day apparently. Mariana seemed very worried, to a higher degree than the curiosity Callie felt.

The two school girls and Jude found Stef and Lena sitting in the lounge. The both stood up in unison, obviously having been waiting for them. Reasonable Lena asked Mariana to take Jude upstairs.

"It's OK, dear," Lena tried to reassure the young boy, failing miserably. "Everything is OK, nothing's wrong. We just want to chat to Callie."

Callie was one part curious to fifty parts worried and majorly angry – how dare she dismiss Jude with an obvious lie. She noticed the worried look on Mariana's face. Callie looked to Stef for any indication as to what was going on. Whilst Lena wore her emotions and good intentions on her sleeve, Stef always seemed firm but fair; easier to upset, easier to disappoint, although why anyone would want to disappoint her Callie could not fathom.

"Sit down, Callie," Lena said.

Callie desperately wanted Stef to say something. She sat in an armchair facing the moms. She knew she had done nothing wrong, so what did they have in store for her and why had they sent Jude upstairs? She suddenly thought the worst. _**-**__**please don't split us** **up-**_**.** Yet, if they were going to keep Jude and send **her** away...she would accept it. It would break her heart beyond repair – it would kill her, but it would be OK.

"Callie, I found a girl taking some drugs this afternoon. She said she got them from you, that you sold them to her, and that you took them from Jesus' bottle of pills."

Callie felt herself in a bizarre situation – she felt it strangely amusing. She felt relieved they were not here to discuss splitting her up from Jude. She felt sad her brother was not being offered a permanent home. She felt insanely angry at being accused of something so stupid. No wonder Mariana had looked worried.

"Did you take the pills?" Stef asked suddenly. She was angry as well.

"No."

"Are you sure?" Lena asked.

Why did everyone ask that as a follow-up? "Yes, I'm sure."

"Why would the girl say you did?" Lena again.

"Why do you think?" Callie replied sarcastically.

"Don't snap at us, Callie," Lena reasoned.

"Then stop asking me stupid frigging questions." Callie stood up and nearly fell over backwards. Stef stood on impulse. "It's OK...head-rush," Callie lied bracing herself by holding on to the wall. "I overheard two kids blame me for the graffiti on the gym wall, and that turned up two days before I arrived. It's always open season for people like me. Gypsies, tramps and thieves and kids straight out of juvie." She turned and walked away from her interrogators, but stopped in the kitchen. She about-turned and faced the direction of the sitting room. She closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten.

Stef had followed her in. "Don't ever walk away from us," she demanded. Callie was suddenly scared. Despite anger being the go-to emotion of most foster parents, she had become so used to the liberal approach adopted by Lena and Stef. In previous homes she had occupied, being 'liberal' had meant the right hand pretended not to see what the left was smoking, or the mother pretended not to see what the father was doing.

Being spoken to harshly by the person she was quickly coming to rely on was devastating. She was not sure yet what it was about Stef that was so different – so different from other foster mothers, so different from Lena, even. She felt she was so close to knowing what it was and that, when she finally found out, it would be a life-changer.

Despite her fear, however, Callie's anger was still stoked. "What are you looking for, Stef?" She asked, exasperation and desperation fighting for control. "Reassurance that you haven't let a socio-path into the house? Or are you looking to be shocked, to finally give you a reason to expel me? What do you want to know?

Do I steal things? No.

Do I take drugs? No, although I have done in the past.

Do I drink? Only at parties – I am 16 after all, and not to excess.

Am I sexually active? Yes. I like it. It makes me feel good: moments of light in this universe of darkness. But, I always take precautions and..."

She nearly said she never slept with her foster brothers, but knew the facts about Liam might surface and the issue of Brandon was still an...issue.

"Am I a violent person," she continued. "No, but if anyone harms Jude..."

She did not finish her sentence. She suddenly found herself back in her last foster home. The 'father' had slapped Jude and was building up for another. Callie had heard the strike from the other room. She remembered the fear she felt, the sorrow that she had not been able to prevent it, but most of all the lack of a cry for help from Jude – as though he thought silence would lessen the next blow, or -_**please no- **_he wanted to prevent his sister from entering the room and exacting revenge. She had grabbed the baseball bat and charged into the room brandishing it like a berserker in the direction of the bastard who dared to lay a finger on her brother - all thought as to what harm she would inflict non-existent. At that point Jude did call out. He entreated her not to do it. This had been enough to halt her momentum. She remembered her own scream of frustration at not being able to follow through. It was only then that she had decided to exact her revenge, anger – rage on the car instead.

"If anyone harms Jude again..." she still left her answer open-ended.

Stef walked round to the other side of the kitchen table and sat down on one of the stools. Callie watched her mesmerised and desperate to know her thoughts, however scary they might be.

"Sit down, Callie," she said gesturing to the stool across the table from her. It sounded more like an invitation than an order. Callie sat down, eye contact unwavering. "I don't need reassuring," Stef opened with and Callie grasped the words - a lifebelt in a stormy sea. "I'm not looking for a reason to evict you. You must know that I would never cast anyone out of this house. Believe me, if I had any doubts... the slightest doubt, you would not have been allowed in." She leant forward, reducing the gap across the table. "You and Jude are here because the thought of you being anywhere else other than a good place fills me with horror."

Callie felt close to losing control – in a good, wondrous way. She felt a tear escape and she shook her head slightly to dislodge it. What was it about Stef that made everything so perfect?

"I don't approve of most of what you confessed, but it is all white noise as far as I am concerned. Mind you," she added, her tone almost light-hearted, "If you are only experiencing 'moments' of light when having sex, you are obviously not doing it right."

Callie' eyes went animé. She impulsively laughed out loud and immediately clasped her hand over her mouth – part in shock at her outburst, part in fear that she may have misheard Stef.

"What, did you think you were the only one who could shock?" Stef face blossomed with a wide smile.

Callie giggled like a child. She then stopped and regarded the older woman with amazement. "How do you..." Before she could finish her question Lena entered the kitchen.

"What was that, dear?" Stef asked when Callie did not follow through with her question. The young girl shook her head slightly as if to say it was not important.

Callie found herself studying – comparing the two women. Lena was the most caring person she had met. She would willingly confess all her sins to her and feel totally absolved. It was Lena who had rescued her from another night spent at Juvie. She was sure no one else would have driven her home that day, even if there had been another candidate available. She was dedicated to fairness above all else and her mercy was unlimited.

Stef was different though. Before Lena had entered the room she had been about ask how she did what she did. She realised it would have been a vague question. She could not put voice to what she felt. How did Stef change the mood of a room, the very air itself, from stifling and claustrophobic to sweet? How did she affect gravity so that any burden felt lighter? The outside world could throw a host of terrors at the door, but none would gain entry with her there. Again, she felt tantalisingly close to knowing the answer – explaining the origin of the deja vu she felt, but still it eluded her grasp.

"I'm sorry," Callie offered. "For my earlier outburst in the other room. I know you had to ask me if I had taken the pills, and that I am an obvious candidate..."

"Don't say that," Stef interrupted. "We would not have confronted you at all if you had not been implicated. We don't label people, so don't label yourself."

Callie now found it strangely warming to be scolded by Stef. The over-familiarity was entirely new. She was obviously sincere and Callie felt a desperate need to attain her approval – be seen in a good light. She shuffled awkwardly. "I'm grateful for you taking the softly-softly approach," she looked straight at the two women. "The last time I was accused of something the father locked Jude and me out of the house without asking for my side of the story. We had to stand in the rain in the front yard for two hours until Bill arrived to pick us up. So the good cop-good cop approach is appreciated. But, I must ask you to promise me something..."

"Callie..." Lena tried to jump in.

"Please, this is very important to me," Callie insisted. "I...I must ask that you never lie to Jude again. I never want him sitting in another room wondering what is happening to me." She balanced back and forth on her feet. She felt justified in asking the favour, yet still felt precarious being only four days into her stay.

The two moms exchanged looks again, as though mind reading the other. "We promise," Lena stated. Callie noticed it was Lena who always voiced household decisions; she was the heart of the house. Stef was the foundation and, even though she tended to dish out the discipline, also the soul.

"But, this issue is not over yet, you know that don't you? Even though we believe you."

"Yes." Callie did not fail to notice Lena said 'even though' rather than 'even **if**'.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Shortly after the emotional endurance and breakthroughs of the kitchen, Callie was sat in the garden. She had the guitar with her and, much to her dismay and joy, she realised she was playing Cavatina. She was saved from her conflicting thoughts by Mariana standing in front of her.

"Why did you do it?" The younger girl asked, her tone betraying a strong desire to know the answer. "Why did you cover for me," she added unnecessarily.

Strictly speaking Callie had not actually covered for her, rather she had not implicated her. "I know I'm innocent, so I felt no need to tell on you. Besides, the last time I snitched on someone I got my arm broke in two places."

"That's terrible."

"I thought so at the time. Still, he never got another monthly pay-check from Child Services. If I were religious I would say there had been a plan involved."

"Your foster father did it!" Poor Mariana was experiencing too much reality, albeit second hand.

"No, the son did it. It was the father I snitched on." Callie elaborated.

"Brandon would never do anything like that."

"That's comforting, thank you," Callie smiled. "Whereas Jesus is mad, bad and dangerous to know."

"No! He wouldn't...you're making fun of me."

"Just a bit. Call it my fee for not telling on you."

There followed an awkward silence. The two girls were not friends. They had yet to bond. Mariana was a product of a happy, loving household which influenced her outlook on life and influenced her behaviour more than she probably realised. All of which made Callie more intrigued and needful of an explanation. "Why did you do it?" She asked.

"I needed the money...to give to my birth mother. We had been chatting on line."

"You went to see a potential complete stranger you had only met on the internet...at night?" Callie was shocked at the stupidity despite what her own behaviour had been on the very same night. She also felt a sense of relief that Mariana had not been harmed. She was pleasantly surprised to discover she was quite fond of her. "Are you going to meet her again?"

"Yes... at least I think so...I mean, yes I am. Please don't tell the others, especially Jesus."

"I won't." Callie was moved by the longing in Mariana to establish a relationship with her mother. "If I am still here and you still feel unable to ask Jesus, tell me and I'll come with you next time, OK?"

"Why would you do that?"

"No one should have to go through it alone. Besides, I've never had a sister – It might be fun."

More awkward silence. "Was Jude alright?"

"He seemed upset at being separated into another room, and worried about what was going on," Mariana replied.

"But, otherwise you felt it was OK to leave him on his own." Callie only partly teased, although she could not conceive why the girl would have left him.

"I didn't leave him on his own. Brandon invited him into his room. He was showing him his model air-plane collection when I left them both."

Brushing aside the vision of Brandon making model aircraft, Callie felt...contented.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Callie stood on the threshold of Jude and Jesus' room. The latter had gone downstairs with his sister for some reason. Her brother was sitting on his bed surrounded by several small oblong boxes and with a large assembled model warship on his lap. Brandon made model warships as well...She concealed a smile by chewing her lower lip.

Jude seemed engrossed, spellbound. He then noticed his sister watching him and his eyes lit up. "Look what Brandon gave me," he gestured to the boxes, which turned out to be a mix of planes and boats. "He said he bought them as a job lot years ago, but doesn't make models any more. He said I could make them, if I wanted. Look," he held up the already-assembled model in his hands. "He made this one. He said he would help me with the difficult bits."

Callie felt herself being beaten over the head with his enthusiasm and she enjoyed every moment ...even if it was based around the joy of making plastic models. She stepped backwards into the hallway and turned to Brandon's room. She hesitated only briefly and entered. He was sat at his keyboards and turned round when he heard her approach. He had no time to say anything as Callie walked right up to him, kissed him on the cheek and walked straight out again.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It was one o'clock in the morning again and Callie was sat at the kitchen table, a glass of water cradled in her hands, the bottle of aspirin in front of her. To fuel the Groundhog Day effect, Lena entered the room.

"I'm so sorry," Callie uttered. "I didn't mean to wake you again."

"You didn't. I always wait up for Stef when she's on late shift." She regarded the bottle. "You haven't taken too many of those, I hope." She received a '_seriously?'_ expression from Callie. "Sorry, I'm feeling a bit delicate on the issue of drugs right now."

"Yea, I'm a bit on edge myself," Callie said good humouredly.

After a few sentences of general banter Callie put a plan into operation. "Lena," she asked. "Could I ask a big favour?" Lena indicated for her to ask away. "I had lunch with Talya today. She seemed very worried that she was losing Brandon."

"Why would she think that?"

"Having an attractive girl move in to his house was top of her list...that's me, by the way."

Lena smiled, but then went serious. "I can't cancel his grounding. Believe me, I would have to convene the UN to do that."

"I know, but I feel so guilty since it was my fault he was grounded. Could you bend the rules slightly and let Talya come visit? It would also reduce the tension between her and me."

"That sounds reasonable. I'll chat to Stef. She likes Talya. Talya and Brandon have been friends since kindergarten and it would be sad to see them split up."

They were both interrupted by the sound of the front door latch, followed by the door being closed. "Hi, honey I'm home," came a voice from the hall.

Callie flinched violently causing her glass of water to tip over and roll across the table. She stood up and backed herself up to the kitchen counter. She had one hand clasped to her mouth and appeared almost catatonic.

"Don't worry, dear," Lena tried to soothe, although she was finding it hard as the sudden movement had startled her. "It's only Stef."

Lena had misinterpreted Callie's response. The voice from the hall was not possible. She could not move. It had attacked – was still attacking, all of her senses at once, eliciting memories: the smell of breakfast in the morning; the touch of reassurance after a rough day at school; the look of devotion to her and her brother above all things. All memories of her mother. She realised now why she felt so safe in Stef's company. Why the woman mesmerised her. Her voice was so much like her mother's it was devastating. Up until now she had only heard her speak when being in the same room – Stef looked nothing like her mother, so the illusion had been masked. But free from such stimulus, the effect was total.

To be continued.


	5. Chapter 5

Sad Eyes

Chapter five

Callie sat on the sofa cradling a glass of water, having taking her first two aspirin of the day. It was early on Friday morning and she was the first up. It had actually been a good nights sleep eventually. She could not recall any of the dreams she must have had. However, the hour leading up to falling asleep was only too fresh in her mind.

She could remember the first sound of Stef's voice when she had returned home from her late shift. The feeling of being emotionally slammed against a wall and slapped across the face. She remembered going rigid and feeling cold, then shaking. It was then that Lena had held her by the shoulders. She had forced her to look at her, forced her to take her eyes from direction of Stef's voice, although in truth Callie might as well as have had her eyes shut as she had not been looking at anything at the time.

Lena had shaken her out of her desolation and then took her weight as she collapsed in her arms – part due to the physical pain she was still feeling at the time and part due to the overwhelming sorrow she had felt. Nature had played a cruel game with her; taunting her with the sound she had longed to hear again for six years, knowing it could never follow through.

Lena had then called in Stef for help. Callie remembered Stef carrying her into the lounge and laying he on the sofa, then sitting at her feet to look down at her. Callie had tried to squeeze herself ever more tightly into the corner, never taking her eyes off the older woman until she felt a strange calmness envelope her. She then cried. She had faced something she had shut away for so long – the loss of her mother. Dancing ghosts and a promise to keep had kept her sane. She had been in survival mode. Everything she did was part of the mechanism. But a young girl without the support of family and friends could only deal with so much.

Stef had asked her what was wrong after having allowed her to cry unhindered for several minutes. Callie told her the truth straight away. She deserved an explanation for her behaviour. She wanted to tell her the truth. She could not think of any suitable lie at such short notice. In fact Callie seldom lied to any foster parents. Telling the truth as confession had been her way of saying she did not care; do your worse; think what you like about me; she could defy and damn the world.

The revelation had upset Stef. She pulled Callie into a hug, which had made the illusion infinitely worse but was quite beautiful. She then found herself being lifted up and placed into Brandon's arms – she could not remember when he had entered the room. He took her upstairs and gently placed her on top of her bed covers, whereupon she curled up into a foetus position and fell asleep. Had she sensed Brandon looking down at her? If so, for how long was he there?

He was now standing across the room from her. How long had he been there for goodness sake? She looked up at him, wordless, hoping perhaps that he was a figment of her imagination, however scary that would have been. She did not blink for **fear** he was a figment of her imagination, however preferable, safer and less confusing that would have been. She tested each scenario. "Thank you," she offered. "For giving Jude your models," she clarified quickly to avoid him thinking about the other thing.

Brandon smiled. "You already thanked me, remember?" The kiss.

Callie purposely chose not to hear the question. It was just a thank you peck on the cheek. "Jude likes you. He thinks you're cool."

"What does his sister think?"

Callie wanted to tell him to stop it; it was becoming tiresome; it was becoming addictive. But she **had** kissed him. It was not allowed! It would only end badly. But what if Brandon was her chance at love – her one bright star? Her once-in-a-lifetime comet? Could she watch its tale light blaze into nothingness and not feel regret for not relishing it, for not jumping on for the ride? The night before, she had dreamt that she and Brandon had found each other in the night and then passed each other by.

She was damn sure she had never been in love. Was this what it felt like? The walls inside her head would shake to their foundations the moment he broke through. When he was in the same room, everyone else was reduced to furniture – except Jude, of course, who would trump Brandon in an instant.

She was not stupid enough to think he was her one and only chance of true love. She was not looking for her husband and life partner. After all, very few people married and lived the next forty years with those they met when 16 years sold. But what if Brandon was supposed to be her **first** true love - the one a mother tells her daughter and granddaughter about. She did not want that to be Liam, even though she had thought he was the candidate in the beginning of their relationship. No, Liam would just go down as her First, which made her intensely angry.

The boys in between, including Tom, had just been means to an end: to make her feel wanted; a warm body on a cold night; someone for Jude to talk to; sometimes for no other reason than because he and she were willing at the time. Every encounter, except Liam in the beginning, had been empty, soulless. The only consolation she clung to was that no one had ever forced her to do anything – beyond ensuring she locked her door at night and had a second exit route. In all instances she had been in full control of her lack of self-control.

She stood up and walked into the kitchen. Brandon followed her. She would love to meet Brandon half way, but decided it was easier to walk in the opposite direction. Safer and less confusing. So she ignored his question. "I spoke with Lena last night. I suggested she and Stef bend your grounding slightly and let Talya visit."

A pained expression appeared on Brandon's face. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to help you both. Talya's very worried about you being led astray by me."

Brandon massaged his eyes and turned away from her for a few seconds. "You should have asked me," he said turning back round.

"I was doing you a favour in return for the models you gave to Jude... and the guitar..."

"I wasn't trying to score points then for payback later! You don't owe me anything."

"Well that's OK then cos I don't have anything to give." _**-**__**I'd give you my heart, but you'd take my soul- **_Callie felt the conversation was going well. It was better to erect a barrier; shore up the foundations of her wall. She felt physically safe in Brandon's company – and grateful. She knew he had her back. He was the first person for a long while she had been able to trust – before Stef and Lena had proven themselves. But she had thought the same about Liam.

"Callie..."

She felt panic rising inside. "I must have a shower before the others start getting up."

She edged pass Brandon. He placed a hand on her arm and gently pulled her round. "Callie, I...I think I am falling in love with you."

She slapped his face without thinking. She responded to her own action by putting her hand over her mouth in horror: at the slap; at his words – long dreaded, long yearned for. A heart-piercing moment. This world was a blessing and a beast. Everyday. She reached out to gently touch where she had hit, but pulled back quickly. "Don't say that."

"I've tried not to have these feelings..."

"Then try harder!" Callie yelled at him. She backed away slightly. "Try harder...please," she pleaded.

"I know the consequences."

Callie was angered by this. "You don't know! You may have studied them in a foster manual, but you have no idea! You **do** know it's not allowed and what it will mean for Jude's well-being."

"What about your well-being?"

"I don't matter! I'm not important." _**-**__**I'm disposable-**_

"Don't say that, don't think that"

"Don't ever tell me what to say or think!" She wanted him to stop looking at her. She wanted him to stop doing her favours. She wanted him to take back his words. Goodness help her, she wanted his touch. She edged pass him again without uttering any soothing words of apology. It was necessary for the conversation to end on a low note; for him to get the message. _**-**__**please pull me back again-**_. This time, however, he let her go unhindered. The distance from the kitchen to the stairs was strewn with hot coals. The temptation to look round was agony. The knowledge that he was watching her retreat was torture.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It had been a long day. It had been a long week! Callie was sat on the edge of Jude's bed indulging in their nightly conversation before she kissed him goodnight. She was the last person he saw at the end of each day and, often as not, the first person he saw when the new day started; continuity in a life that seldom offered it.

"You were quiet today," Jude offered up into the dimness of the room – the only light being that from the hallway outside.

"I'm always quiet. It's my thing."

"Not normally. You haven't instructed me or asked me any questions today."

Callie's curiosity had been piqued. "Such as?"

"You always tell me to be good, eat my lunch, learn something. Always ask me if I enjoyed school, made any new friends. If I feel happy, safe. Sometimes in the exact same order."

"Wow, I'm quite a chatterbox."

"Not today. What's wrong?"

Sometimes Callie hated Jude asking her questions. She had vowed never to lie to him; to never patronise or hide the truth. Questions about religion had actually been fascinating; the 'sex talk' had been hilariously embarrassing – she giggled in private whenever she thought about it. But, some questions broached subjects she would rather not regurgitate; she would rather he not worry about.

"I had a long cry with Stef last night."

"The drugs? I thought Jesus had confessed."

"No, that's been resolved...it was something else." Jude sat up. "Can you remember mom's voice?" She asked.

He shook his head. "I can't even remember her face that well. Did she sound like Stef?" Callie looked at her brother in surprise. He smiled. "My maths may not be good, but I can add two and two."

"Smart arse." She ruffled his hair.

Sometimes Callie hated Jude asking her questions. She felt lucky, though, as he frequently made the answering easy for her. She gestured for him to lie back down and she kissed him on his forehead before standing up. She got as far as the door, but turned back round to him. "You're still happy here, right?" She asked feigning an offhand tone which she doubted fooled him. "You'd stay here, if you could."

"Forever, if you are here with me. Until tomorrow, if not."

"That's good."

"Callie," Jude called after. She looked back round. "You promised, remember?"

Callie nodded her head and shut the door. She wondered – weighed up the concept, as to whether an older promise took precedence over a newer one; whether a more important one negated a lesser. At no time did she consider breaking either. Instead, she wondered whether events could be manipulated to make a promise...bendable.

On the upstairs landing she nearly collided with Talya. Stef had given permission for Brandon to invite her over and he had done just that. It was a relief to see her and a bit of her died at the same time.

"Thank you for trying to help me," Talya said as she passed the other girl. Callie noticed all was not well with her friend-enemy-competition. She placed a hand on her arm and showed genuine concern at what was bothering her, and felt a dread rise from the pit of her stomach. "Brandon and I just broke up."

Callie put a hand to her mouth. She looked round at the closed door to Jude's bedroom. Her skin went cold with panic.

"It's OK," Talya offered, misinterpreting Callie's reaction. "I don't blame you. I know you tried to keep us together by suggesting I visit."

Callie felt ashamed her mind had so quickly moved away from Talya's hurt to her own fear. But her fear was still all to real nonetheless.

"I think he likes you," Talya unwittingly made things worse.

"He can't. It's not allowed," Callie intoned automatically before she realised she had said it out loud. "I'm so sorry," she finally alluded to the actual subject of the conversation.

Lena called Callie's name from downstairs. There was a boy at the door. Said his name was Tom and could they talk? She afforded one glance at Talya and shouted down that she was coming. Callie felt crowded with things to do. She wanted to talk with Talya. She needed to weigh up repercussions. She wanted to berate and comfort Brandon. And now Tom had finally turned up – where had he been!?. Why couldn't he have come yesterday, before the chess-pieces had been moved this morning and this evening. She backed away from Talya apologetically and nearly collided with Brandon on the stairs.

"Who's Tom?" He asked.

"My boyfriend," she answered simply – deliberately.

Lena met her at the base of the stairs. "It's late for a visitor, Callie."

"I know. I'm sorry, Lena. We'll be quiet and brief. We haven't seen each other for some time."

"OK, just this once and because it's not a school night. He's on the veranda outside."

Callie smiled a thank you and eagerly pulled open the front door. Tom was standing at the far end of the veranda, his back to her. He turned round and Callie leapt into his arms. She hoped she appeared overjoyed to see him rather than relieved he was there - to serve a purpose, to make a point. She was actually happy to see him. Tom was a nice person.

"Where have you been, for goodness sake?" Callie asked with mock sternness. _**-**__**where have you been!-**_ "I've sent you countless texts and emails."

Tom extricated himself from Callie's grip and lowered her to the ground. He pushed her to arms length, his hands on her shoulders. Callie couldn't help but notice his lack of enthusiasm. She backed away. Her mind was being assaulted by worse-case scenarios. She needed Tom to keep Brandon at bay. Brandon needed to be kept at bay to ensure Jude was not cast out of Paradise. He wouldn't stay behind without her and she wouldn't suggest otherwise – she was bound by the promise she had given him. Her alternative option terrified her.

"Callie..."

She knew what was coming. "Why?" She pre-empted his words. She knew she was making it easier for him. She judged he deserved that. He had been kind to Jude and she had used him.

"My mother is unhappy about me dating a girl from juvie."

"Your mother." Callie's despair was upturned to anger. The emotion was welcome. She could handle anger like a professional. She weighed up her response; her desire to be fair to Tom countered by the fact he used his mother's opinion to justify his breaking up with her. "She was OK with you sleeping with a little foster girl, but her son with a criminal was one adventure too far."

"I'm sorry, Callie."

"He hit my brother!" She cried out. "He...he hit Jude," she pleaded for his understanding. "If he'd just hit me again, I would have bounced back like I always do. But, he hit..." This was the first time she had confronted the event out loud. It was not cathartic. "So I took a baseball bat to his precious car! No one believed me, of course when I told them why." She looked away. "No one ever believes me."

Tom reached out for her and laid a hand gently on her arm. "Oh, Callie, but what did you achieve?" She looked up at him momentarily puzzled. "You ended up being locked up and Jude was left with the very person you tried to protect him from."

At that point Lena appeared on the veranda, her eyes dangerous. "That's it," she declared. "This conversation is over. Go home, Tom."

She was too late, however; the damage had already been done. Callie stood destroyed by what she had been torturing herself with for weeks; thoughts given voice by a third party oblivious of the effect they would have. She had a hand over her mouth. She was in shock, her eyes focused on no-one; nothing but her own memories playing out a waking nightmare.

"Callie," Lena tried to attract her; tried to pull her from the abyss.

Callie snapped out of her trance. Her attention jolted to the older woman. Her eyes pleaded for understanding, for absolution, for her to make it all better. She fled the scene. Lena went to stop her, but was felled by a look of abject terror from the girl as she flinched away from her out-held hand. Stef only just avoided colliding with Callie as they passed each other in the doorway.

"Callie," Tom called after her.

Lena swung her attention round to him. "I told you to leave!" She yelled at him. Stef looked horrified as though such an emotion coming from her partner was alien to her. "And I don't want you to come here again, understand," she added, her normal calm returned, but still with the firmness of a vice principal.

"You can't stop me from seeing her again," the fool challenged.

Lena stood on the spot. She felt no need to approach him to emphasise her authority. "How old are you, Tom?"

"Eighteen," he replied puzzled.

"I seem to recall being told that Callie turned 16 only recently, which would mean she was under age when you were...dating."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. I don't threaten. My partner does that. She has a gun."

Stef stepped to her side on cue. She was still in her police uniform – unarmed, of course, but he obviously did not know that.

Tom stepped backwards down the steps. "I really didn't mean to upset Callie. Please tell her that."

"She knows," Lena offered kindly. "She was obviously pleased to see you, so I judge you must be a decent person. But, I advise you let her make the next move, OK?"

Tom nodded his head and walked. Lena sighed and turned round to face Stef.

"My partner has a gun?" Stef repeated, her eyes expressive. Lena shrugged. She then looked to the house and all thoughts were of Callie.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Callie was sat on the floor of the bathroom. She had exhausted herself of tears; silently screamed until her head ached. She was guilt-stricken and distraught at what she had done, what could have happened, and terrified at what she was about to do. As if on cue, she experienced a sharp spasm of pain in her stomach. She arched her back and her breath caught. She stood up, surveyed herself in the mirror and entered the landing. She looked in on Jude. He could sleep through anything, fortunately. Only nightmares roused him before it was time to wake and they had been few since they had arrived at this latest home.

She turned round and found Talya and Brandon facing her. Had they been on the landing all the time? She smiled weakly.

"Are you OK?" Talya asked and Brandon expressed. People were asking her that a lot these days. She really should have rehearsed some imaginative replies beyond "Yes, I'm fine thank you." She walked towards the stairs, but then turned round. "You will always look out for Jude, won't you?"

"Of course," Brandon replied.

"Thank you. I'd better go and apologise to your moms for this evening's...event."

Callie was relieved the two students remained upstairs and equally glad everyone else was in the kitchen. It made everything easier. She picked up a set of car keys, silently opened the front door and walked out of the house. She clicked the key lock, flinching slightly at the beeping noise it caused. She got in the appropriate car and drove away. Mariana and Jesus saw the car leave as they returned from seeing their birth mother.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

"I didn't know she could even drive," Brandon added when Mariana revealed Callie's exit in Lena's car.

Lena looked to Stef, who returned her concern. "She'll come back eventually. She just needs some time alone."

"Are you serious?" Talya voiced. Everyone looked to her. "She's sick...hasn't anyone noticed? And, Brandon," she turned to her ex-boyfriend. "She practically said goodbye to you upstairs."

Stef's son was distraught. He looked to both of his moms for reassurance. It was Talya, again, who

stepped up. "We can take my car and search for her. Stef and Lena can follow in Stef's car."

Brandon pulled himself together and looked with supreme gratitude at his ex-girlfriend. "I think I know where she has gone."

"OK," Stef announced. "You two go now. Lena and I will follow shortly. Text us with any news you have." Brandon and Talya gathered their coats. "Now, where is it you think she may have gone?"

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Brandon was relieved his instinct had been proven correct, right down to the exact location. Callie had parked the car half up to the kerb and at an angle to the road. The car door was still open as though parking, opening and exiting had been one continuous action. He pulled up behind Lena's car and both he and Talya climbed out. They did not have to search for long.

Callie was standing on the beach several feet from the pathway and facing the sea. She had her arms behind her back, hands linked and was looking up at the sky. She stumbled slightly causing her to lean forward and wrap her arms round her body frame before resuming her earlier stance.

"Aren't they beautiful?" She stated/asked without turning, having heard the car doors being slammed and guessing who it was standing behind her. She turned round to face her audience. She swung her arms wide and swayed to left and right. "Aren't they wondrous?" She meant the stars in a night sky void of any clouds to restrict the view. "Diamonds on a black blank canvas . So beautiful." She wiped tears from her face. "Why isn't the beach full of people to see this? Do the ghosts scare them? They needn't be frightened. They're only here to enjoy the spectacle with them."

"They're just stars, Callie," Brandon stated. "Have you never seen stars before?"

"Glimpsed through the gaps of buildings, yes. Filtered through neon. But not like this for so many years. And nothing so beautiful."

She turned round to face the sea again and started to walk away. Brandon was transfixed by the beautiful girl he had only met days before. He felt tears of his own for the sadness he felt.

"Go to her," Talya said. She stood alongside him. Brandon was surprised and relieved and ashamed. "Go to her," she repeated for his benefit.

"I am so sorry, Talya," he confessed.

"So am I, but what can we do?"

"We can still be friends though."

"Good grief, Brandon," Talya sighed exasperated, yet strangely not upset. "Go to her."

Callie had stopped again, appearing to be transfixed by something. He heard her giggle, then laugh out loud, then look up at the night sky again.

"Callie," he called out. "Callie, come home."

"But I want to stay here," she replied not turning round. She watched her ghosts dancing. "I want to lay on the sand with a diamond canopy over me and with the sea as a lullaby. I want to be crowned queen of the beach. I want to...fall asleep."

"Callie, please. You need to go to the hospital...you're not well."

If Callie had cared to live, she would have died long ago. Died of heartbreak: after Liam; after every subsequent soulless coupling; after every beating and failed foster home. If Talya and Mariana had experienced half of what she had, they would lock themselves in a room and cry for a year. But she had not cared to live, so she had survived. Survived on a promise she had made six years ago - a promise which was so close to fruition. It had made her calculating, callous, cold. She was shaken from her thoughts by the realisation that Brandon had bridged the gap between them. He was frighteningly close to her.

"I love you," he confessed again, oblivious or perhaps uncaring of her desperation for the opposite.

"Sssh," she responded quietly, placing two fingers on his lips. "It's not allowed. Believe me, it always ends badly." She backed away from him and was about to turn round.

"I don't care," Brandon stubbornly declared.

"Oh, Brandon, you're so young," Callie said kindly, although she knew it patronised. She then changed her tone. "You've known me less than a week - you can't possibly love me yet. What you mean is, 'you like me... in a special way.'

He moved one step closer, she backed away one step.

"Besides, you really don't want me. I'm just a little foster girl. People like me don't get to enter the perfect snow-globe worlds like yours – we stare through the glass from the outside and shake them, causing chaos and confusion."

He moved one step closer, she backed away one step. She felt panic well up from the base of her stomach. He was jeopardising everything! Yet, she was so close to stepping forward.

"I'm too damaged to heal. I'm high maintenance."

He moved one step forward, she stood her ground. She closed her eyes, then opened them again and set herself on the course she needed to take.

"I'm used goods," she declared. "And I don't just mean second hand, I've...I've been very generous."

He stopped. She inwardly sighed – relief and dismay. She should have ripped the plaster much sooner; before his declaration

"Do I mean nothing to you?" He pleaded like a child lost.

"You mean nothing to me." _**-**__**nothing in particular and everything in between. Oh, Brandon, if you take one step forward I will be yours, damn the consequences-**_

"Why are you doing this? Acting like this?" He asked, confused and hurt and rooted to the spot

"I'm tired, Brandon," Callie responded – almost cried out. "I'm..." she paused... for inspiration...for understanding...to be rescued.

"You're sad," Talya injected into the silence. "You're sad."

Callie wanted to hug her. This girl she had started out wanting to hate, yet had grown to respect and had desperately not wanted to betray. "I've been sad for so long," she conceded. She looked up at the stars. "But not tonight," she added with determination and a tone of wistfulness. "How could I be sad tonight with a sky so beautiful?" She caught sight of another car pull up alongside Talya's. "Ellen and Portia have arrived." Brandon and Talya turned round.

Stef and Lena got out of the car. Lena walked round from the passenger seat and stood alongside her partner. Callie screamed inside when she saw Stef break away and start to walk towards her across the sand. _**-**__**why did it have to be her?-**_ Callie turned from her audience and started to walk away.

"Where are you going, Callie?" Brandon called to her.

"I'm going down to the sea's edge. I might skinny dip." She turned round to face him. "Did you want to come too?" She asked impishly cruel. "Talya can come too. I'm pretty sure Stef won't mind. You come from a liberal house, after all – all bases covered."

"Are you in pain, Callie?" Stef asked suddenly. Callie resolutely kept her eyes opened – it was still light enough to see her face, but her voice still haunted her.

"Exquisite agony, thank you for asking."

"Then let me take you the hospital..."

"No!"

"Please, Callie. This isn't the way out."

This was the first verbal recognition of what she was considering...attempting.

"Brandon loves me," Callie declared as though it was the end of the world and a justification.

"I know." Stef said simply.

Brandon looked to his mother in shock. Callie noticed and was truly confused by his surprise. Didn't he know that Stef saw everything? Knew everything.

She then watched as Stef turned her attention to Lena. Her partner opened the rear car door and Callie watched in horror and devastation as her brother climbed out.

"You brought Jude!" She cried. "Why did you have to do that? Why would you do such a thing?" Stef held out her hand. Callie ignored her – her eyes transfixed on Jude instead. "I wanted to lie down under the stars. I wanted to be free. I wanted to...fall asleep."

"We promised never to lie to him, remember?"

"He was asleep!" She looked at Jude, her king, then back to Stef. "I left him on his own for two weeks," she broke down. "I left him with the devil himself for two weeks!"

Jude then started to run towards her. Callie put her hand to her mouth to stop from crying out. She sank to her knees and he fell into her arms. She hugged him tightly, despite the pain it caused. She maintained the close embrace for several seconds before finally holding him at arms length to look him in the eyes.

"Are you OK?" She asked.

"Yes. Are you?"

"I...no... I'm not well." She could not lie to him.

"Are we going to the hospital?"

"Yes." She stood up.

"Did you notice the stars?" Jude asked, catching his sister unawares.

She looked up. "Yes...they're beautiful, aren't they?"

"They remind me of our nights on the beach with mom."

Callie looked down at him. "I didn't think you remembered."

"Of course I do. You used to play your guitar as me and mom danced. We'd stay all night and catch the first bus back the next morning."

Callie let her tears flow freely. The world at that moment consisted of just her and Jude.

"Let's go," Stef instructed.

Callie looked in the direction of the car. "I don't suppose you could bring the car a bit closer. I...I think I've reached my limit here." She suddenly found herself hoisted off the ground, in Brandon's arms. "Oh...you're lifting me up...I'm being lifted...that's OK."

As her white knight carried her up the beach Callie realised nothing had really been resolved – she and Jude were still just temporary. In fact, matters were more confusing – Brandon loved her. Brandon loved her. It was bound to end badly, but she did not care. She would shake the snow globe with an unbridled enthusiasm – everyone loved snow, right? She nestled her head into Brandon's shoulder.

"I should warn you," Jude directed at his sister. "When you're better we're gonna have a big argument."

"We are?" Callie responded with a smile.

"Oh yes. I'm going to shout a lot and you're going to apologise a lot and make fresh promises."

"Will you accept my apologies?"

"Of course. You're my queen. I'm your lion-heart."

end


End file.
